


Operation Schrodinger's Closet

by The_Wonderful_Jinx



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Gen, Halloween, Implied Relationships, Pranks and Practical Jokes, intern hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wonderful_Jinx/pseuds/The_Wonderful_Jinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The interns were silent the days leading up to Saturday, which would not have been a problem with Nic if a) these were normal, rational-minded interns that did not have a propensity for pranks and B) that this Saturday was the office Halloween party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Schrodinger's Closet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZombieBabs (CommodoreOblivious)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ZombieBabs+%28CommodoreOblivious%29).



> I want to thank BuckyBabs for giving me permission to elaborate on her fic (WHICH YOU SHOULD TOALLY READ)

The interns were silent the days leading up to Saturday, which would not have been a problem with Nic if a) these were normal, rational-minded interns that did not have a propensity for pranks and B) that this Saturday was the office Halloween party. 

This was the kind of silence that warned of an upcoming shit storm of epic proportions. But no matter now often he lurked around the coffee pot, tea pot, water cooler, and the cafe they went on their breaks, he couldn’t get a word of what was going on. He asked Meerkatnip if there were any suspicious emails floating around. She got nothing, just the usual business memos and the inane office gossip. Desperate, he even called on Melissa and the Strand Institute interns (whom the PNWS interns had a friendly rivalry with) to figure what the silence was about. Like MK, they could only offer him nothing, except a prayer for his health and any trouble that would arise. 

Despite his better judgement, he didn’t cancel the party. He already made his costume, paid for the catering, and made the playlist. And Holly already paid for the very nice- and very expensive- make up that she was going to use on Alex. Canceling would only lead to a riot. Whatever the interns were planning - and he would swear on his grandmother’s grave that they were- he was sure he could handle it.

 

* * *

 

 

The night before the party, when Nic, Alex, and the rest of full-timers were gone, the interns met outside the office building. They were huddled together in their heavy jackets, with the smaller interns (those were got cold more easily) in the middle. They made sure the kept out of the view path of the security camera.

“You got the door on the automatic lock system?” said the leader of the interns, a tall woman with black hair cut in a short pixie cut. 

“IT has tested it and confirm that it works.” replied the representative for the IT department (whom were in charge of the putting up music system earlier that day and were taking a well deserved rest). 

“Did you move the batteries and mess with the breakers?” the leader asked.

“Done and done.” and intern from media replied.

“And is Strand coming to the party?”

“He is. He replied to Alex’s email an hour before she left.” the representative said again.

“Perfect” the leader said with a smile. “Operation Schrodinger’s Closet is a go. Betting will commence tomorrow once the love birds have entered the nest. Go home and get some sleep. We got a long night tomorrow.”

The interns parted ways, giddy for Saturday and the hopeful windfall they might receive.

____

The moment Nic thought the interns’ silence was a product of his imagination and that he was just overreacting was the very moment the power went out. First the lights, then the music, and then everything else, like a house cards it all went crashing down. And he knew someone was behind it.

He sent Alex and Strand to find flashlights, in the meanwhile, he stewed in the corner trying to figure out what the interns had plotted. He could only wait. He saw an intern press his headset closer to his ear and grinning. Nic was about to ask him what he was smiling about when an ear piercing shout rang through the party floor.

“STEP RIGHT UP! BETS ARE NOW OPEN!”

And as though a bomb went off, the interns clamored and began shouting. Despite the cacophony of shouting and the darkness, he could that they were shouting numbers and waving dollar bills in the air. From the light of a couple phones, he could see three interns on the karaoke stage: all women, one holding a lock box where interns put their money in, the other writing something down in a notebook (with a pocket flashlight in between her teeth), and the other doing what seemed like rapid calculations on her phone.

Nic pushed and shoved through the crowd of interns before he found himself in front of the three women. The ringleaders of all this chaos.

“What the hell are you guys doing now?!” he shouted over the crowd. The three just grinned, and continued their work of taking money and recording.

“Betting, Mr. Silver!” They replied in unison (save for the one with a flashlight in her mouth). 

“On what? Goddamnit tell me!” he roared. The crowd drowned him out.

“50  that she kills him!” an intern shouted in his ear.

“20  that they’re making out!” another called out.

“100 that they’re fucking in the closet!”

Nic glared at the ringleaders, they’re grins only widened.

“You did not-” he said, stunned and horrified of the balls the interns had to pull off such a prank. 

“We did” they said smugly, safe in the knowledge that they all had job security. Well, most of them anyway. 

“Which closet are they in?” he growled, regaining his composure, but not his patience.

“You want in, you gotta play.”

Nic shoved a ten in the overstuffed lock box. “10 says that they’re scared out of their goddamn minds!”

The ladies looked at one another before complying, but not before giving him a glare that would give Strand a run for his money. 

“The maintenance closet. The one you sent them too.”

Nic stormed off, but not before sending Chelci (that traitor) to flip the breakers. 

They shrugged, and continued taking bets. They made over 500 dollars in ten minutes.

 

* * *

 

The interns were sitting on the floor when Nic returned. Most of them were talking and gossiping. Some raided the buffet table. The rest are gathered around the karaoke stage, telling ghost stories. But they didn’t pay him any mind at first

He coughed, they all turned rapidly to face him. He grinned, exposing his fake fangs. Honestly, it terrified them. And the shit lighting and the waning moonlight only made it worse. 

“I have a message from Strand.”

They leaned in, waiting on his every word.

“He’s giving you a five minute head start.”

It was silent for a moment- maybe a minute or two - before a high pitched scream of pure horror shattered the silence. And soon, the rest of the intern chimed in. They dropped their food and whatever was in their hands. As though he shot a gun in the crowd, they began running for the door. They scrambled to get their bags and costume props that were stacked to the side. Those who were wearing heels even ditched them for better running. They were screaming all the way, echoing down the hall and the cold night air. But through the shouting and the screaming, Nic could make out a particular phrase, “Go to the meeting place. Go to the meeting place.” Interns crammed themselves into their tiny cars. Many offered to carpool with those who didn’t have cars or came in by train. Cars peeled out of the parking lot, kicking up dust and burning miles of rubber into the pavement. 

The entirety of the interns were gone in less than five minutes, leaving Nic to the mess before him. Discarded food, shoes, props, and bags that weren’t claimed. And in the middle of the mess, the lock box containing all the money -and luckily- the key. 

He smirked as Alex and Strand entered the room. Alex looked at the mess with confusion. Strand smiled. 

“I guess they took my words to  _hart_ , Alex?” Alex groaned, jabbing him in the shoulder with her elbow. Strand rubbed his shoulder in mock pain. 

Nic laughed. “Take whatever food is leftover and enjoy the rest of the weekend off you two. I’ll clean up the mess.”

Alex and Strand offered to help him clean, but he waved them off, saying Chelci already volunteered. He handed Strand the lock box. They gave him a puzzled look. 

“For your troubles you two.” he said, smiling, “Strand, take her somewhere nice to eat.”

And before they could argue back, he shooed them out the door and locked them out of the office. They were banging on the door for a couple minutes before Strand convinced Alex to give it up. Nic watched them leave for the parking lot. Strand had draped his jacket over Alex’s shoulders, his hand on her waist.

Nic smiled and hummed a guitar piece he was composing as he cleaned the office of all the trash as Chelci mopped the floor. He put the abandoned props, bags, and wallets in a box to be collected on Monday. It was past just past midnight when he finished cleaning. Another hour spent on making sure there wasn’t any traps set by the interns. It was two am when he finally made it home. He collapsed in his bed and he fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Miles away from the late-night cafe where Alex and Strand were eating at and miles more from Nic’s apartment, the interns were gathered in the tiny and dark living room of the three women in charge of the betting. The door was locked, chairs stacked in front of it, and all of them had a weapon of some sort. Kitchen knives, baseball bats, brass knuckles, and wrenches were in their hands. One intern even found an ax (though where it came from, they refrained from asking). They all warily watched the door. Jumping at the slightest of sounds from a neighbor retiring from a late night of drinking, stray cats, and party music. It was three am when they finally relaxed and let down their guard. One intern watched the security camera, and another stayed close to the door with a bat. Just in case.

“So...” an intern from media spoke up as they made popcorn for the crowd. “Do you think any of us won?”

“We’ll have to ask Alex herself on Monday. Assuming we’re all alive by then. Now shush.” the intern with the remote said as they channeled through the Netflix account. “Any movie suggestions?”

“Anything but a slasher movie.” an intern in a vampire costume mumbled as she fought to get her plastic fangs out to eat the chips beside her. 

“No gore!” an intern dressed as a mermaid replied. 

The room quickly filled with recommendations, and before long they were down to The Blair Witch Project and The Omen. They took a vote. Blair Witch won by a landslide, while Omen got one vote.

“No more fucking demons.” the rest of the interns agreed. 

They piled onto the couch. The rest had chairs from the kitchen or sat on the floor. Others where in the back playing board games or skyping with the night owls that comprised of Strand’s interns. Halfways through the movie, an intern spoke up.

“Did anyone grab the lock box before we left?”

And not a second later, a shout -more like a roar- came from the other room.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN STRAND HAS CLAUSTROPHOBIA?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you had fun, and let know if there were any errors or ooc'ness! Happy Halloween!


End file.
